All That is Sacred
by combustible lemons
Summary: Thrall was having a terrible day. Drabble-ish with an unrelated, anomalous plot. Thrall/Jaina. Mildly fluffy with a smidgen of self-loathing.


Do not own Warcraft. I do own my characters in WoW though. /snickers

_All That is Sacred_

Thrall was having a terrible day.

Political practices, another battle in Warsong Gulch, a self-proclaiming warlock causing an unneeded brawl in the Cleft of Shadow...

Did he mention he had a spat with Jaina as well?

It wasn't like he intended to upset her; he was simply on edge and he gracelessly drew Jaina into it. He hadn't realized at the place and time that this was _Jaina _– not his advisers and certainly not his guard. She was his romantic interest. Or, if you prefer, the one whom he was courting.

Thrall reckoned Jaina was less put-off than he. The thing about Jaina was her determined attitude. She didn't let her personal problems hinder her work. Her leadership. She wasn't so low on self-esteem to let herself wallow in her guilt. Thrall had never experienced anything such as this before. Perhaps it came with first-time serious relationships.

Jaina was, true to his word, his first serious courtship. The women before her were merely sought out due to frustration and the loneliness causing that frustration. What he had with her was, in its own right, love. And he did not mean to trifle with such a delicate emotion.

He cursed his tongue and wide mouth.

_Should have watched my words_, he cursed, _Should have been more alert_.

He was very much disappointed with himself for unloading all his troubles onto her and then being overly rude to her to boot. He would not appreciate that if anyone had done so to him.

Regret plunged into his chest.

"I must speak with her," he said aloud, "I must make this right."

Willing his resistant legs to move, he summoned a mage and departed, all the while chewing on his lips, a habit that left him wondering where it had originated and why it made him feel so emasculated.

Teleporting to Theramore Isle left him feeling a tad queasy, as he was adept in the form of transportation. Jaina had advised him to breathe deeply upon arrival and count to ten in his native language to wait for the nausea to subside. It usually worked, but with his mind furiously twisting, he could not will it away as he usually did.

Theramore was a curious place to him at first glance. It was deliberately human and unsettled him greatly. But after various trips to the western Alliance port, it grew on him and every architectural detail reminded him of Jaina and her taste for the port's layout.

That being said, it was still a human settlement and if anyone saw him, despite their knowledge of his allegiance with their leader, they would feel threatened. Even in Jaina's keep, he knew to stay out of sight. Being seen would invoke terror upon Theramore's inhabitants, and would uproot Jaina's more hidden grievances.

He found himself twisting the metal knob of her door, entering and closing it behind him. Her room was a bit of everything, he observed, as it had maps, runes, chaste Kul Tiras reminders long since forgotten to dispatch, and new documents plagued with his signature.

Jaina stood at her window, eyes looking out on her city. She had dressed into something more fitting of sleeping attire. Thrall eyed her usual robes, thrown carelessly over the low back chair pushed into an old, tired desk. Most likely Daelin's.

"I apologize, Jaina," he said softly, the words sounding coarse by his tongue. "I still cannot explain the wrongful words I had spoken to you, and you shouldn't of had to bear the brunt of it. I'm not quite sure what else I can say to you to atone my childish behavior."

There was a pause, dreadful and beating. His heart seeped into his throat.

She turned her head to look at him, eyes entrancing his own, making him forget for a brief moment that she was angered by his past trysts. Her cold stare was enough to keep him standing where he was. Despite her small stature, Jaina was a force to be reckoned with. Her magic could easily outmatch his own, as he was a mixture of a warrior and shaman.

"Would there be a point in telling you of your misgivings?" she said quietly. "As a grown man, I'd expect you to have known them yourself." She shook her head slowly. "But as a grown woman, I should not be so stubborn. It was impulsive of me to storm out, but you must understand... that I was governed by my emotions in that brief instant."

She turned her body to him, taking soft steps across the oppositely hard floor to reach him. His body felt like ice.

"Why?" he found himself asking. A smile flashed across her face.

"That's a very large question," she answered. His lips twitched, but he steeled himself, taking a step forward, closing in on her. Their bodies touched, berating him with a scarring reminder that their relationship was not and would never be a one-way path. He would no longer upset her by growling his problems to her, expecting her sympathy when he should of known that Jaina was very open-minded. When they conversed, they often debated and learned the others ideals and principles. That only furthered their deep-rooted affection for one another, creating divots of more things to learn and love and hate and tolerate and adore and be annoyed with and all the rest of it.

"I am sorry," he repeated, feeling conflicted. He put his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. Her breath fanned against his chest, and he enjoyed the feeling, if only for a moment.

"If you think that I'd not forgive you for something so juvenile as a petty conflict..." she trailed off, her eyes meeting his and warming his heart. He only held her closer, deeming the contact necessary to heal.

Sometimes, in one lifetime or another, that's all that was needed to make something right.

Thrall felt very much exposed at the moment, but let himself relish in it. Bask, even. In her presence. In their openness. In it all.

"This is new to me," he admitted, "this intimacy. It feels so foreign."

She rested her head against his collarbone, arms caressing his shoulder blades. "It is a luxury." she finally spoke, breathing in time with him. Thrall nodded against her, knowing that their time together was short with all the happenings of Azeroth and beyond. But together, they would indulge in it, hoping that one day, it would be fit to last forever.

* * *

Can you say... complete plot-bunny, unrelated to anything drabble five times fast? No?

On a side note, I recruited my dad and we got to sixty in three days with conflicting work schedules, but yay! Dad's a tanking warrior and I'm a discipline priest. Penance is godly. We're working on 80, and once we DO get there, I'll have 4. I feel bad for my dad; he has no BoAs. :(

Regardless, woot woot. /train

I don't have a life. You know I don't when this is posted at two a.m. and I'm talking about World of Warcrack.


End file.
